


Unpickable Bonds

by kathierif_fic



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010), White Collar
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathierif_fic/pseuds/kathierif_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kono promised to teach him how to surf, and Neal wanted to paint her. It's a normal morning after, except with less breakfast in bed and more murder and crime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unpickable Bonds

**Author's Note:**

> written for xover_exchange on lj, for ariadnes_string.
> 
> Prompt:  
> \- Theme: The morning after the night before.  
> \- Pairing: Hawaii Five-O/ White Collar; Pairing: Neal/Kono  
> mixed in with a dash of  
> \- “I can’t believe we’re relying on you to get us out of this mess!”  
> and  
> \- “I want to hate you so much, but…”
> 
> This is future fic, so no tracker for Neal anymore

Steve and Danny arrived at the crime scene together, Steve driving Danny's car as usual. Chin was waiting for them at the crime scene tape, having arrived just moments before, and Danny gave him a brief nod in greeting as they walked through the fine sand and toward where the body had been found. The morning sun was warming them, and they all had to narrow their eyes against the brightness.

“Our victim is male, no ID,” Lori said instead of a greeting as they came to a stop next to her. “Max?”

The coroner looked up. “Cause of death is several deep puncture wounds in chest and abdominal area. He's been dead for several hours. Lack of blood around the body indicates that he was moved post-mortem and placed here.”

“Do you have any idea what caused the wounds?” Danny wanted to know as he glanced over Max' shoulder.

“Most likely a sharp knife with a serrated edge.” Max frowned and picked something up with his tweezers.

“What do you have there?” Steve asked.

“It looks like the entire abdominal cavity of the body has been stuffed with this...some sort of fabric?” He put it into a clear evidence bag and handed it over to Steve.

“Bandages?” Danny asked, but he shook his head almost immediately. The piece of fabric was about an inch wide and several inches long, but it was too small for a bandage. It was a deep rusty shade of red, the color of dried blood.

“Take a closer look,” Lori said and grasped the bottom edge of the bag, to tilt it sideways, into the sunlight. “Something's written on it.”

“All right.” Steve handed her the bag. “You figure out what it says. Chin, try to ID the victim. Maybe we have his fingerprints or dental records or something on file.” He frowned slightly. “Who found him?”

Lori hesitated and glanced at Chin briefly before she replied. “Kono and her boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Danny looked up from the body. “I didn't know she's seeing someone.”

“Don't look at me, I didn't know either,” Chin replied with a shrug and turned away, but they all could see the frown that had appeared on his face.

“Okay,” Steve said and held up both hands. “ID the vic. Find out what that fabric is. Danny, let's go talk to Kono and that guy.”

~~~

“Hey.” Danny sat down next to Kono and handed her a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” she answered and took a sip. “I'm fine.”

“Good,” Steve said. “So who's your friend?”

“Neal?” Kono glanced to the side toward where a man was leaning against a car, a sketchpad in his hands.

“Neal, huh?” Danny gave her a long look. “How did you meet?”

“In a bar. He spent the night.” Kono rolled her eyes. “He didn't kill the guy. He was with me all night.” She brushed her hair behind an ear. “We wanted to go surfing this morning – when we came out of the water, we found the body here.”

“Have you seen him before?” Steve wanted to know, and Kono shook her head.

“No,” she said. “Has he been ID'ed yet?”

“Chin's working on it,” Danny said. “I'm sure it's only a matter of time.”

~~~

“Steve McGarrett, Five-0.” Steve gave the man a quick once-over. “This is my partner, Danny Williams.”

The man was slender, his hair was still slick with water, but it was starting to dry in little tufts that were sticking up. His eyes were a bright shade of blue, and his clothes managed to appear both relaxed and elegant at the same time. The smile he gave them sent Steve's teeth on edge almost immediately.

He knew that kind of smile; a smile that never reached a person's eyes and was bright enough to blind people and distract them from what was really going on around them.

“Neal Caffrey,” the man finally said.

Steve frowned. He wasn't sure why, but he had the distinct impression that Neal had wanted to say something else at first.

“Mr. Caffrey,” Danny said smoothly. “How long have you been on this island?”

Neal shrugged and glanced down, at the sand by their feet. His carefully constructed and maintained facade seemed to crack for a split second, but before Steve could take a peek behind it, the smile was back.

“A few days,” he said. “My first vacation in years, really.” His eyes narrowed slightly.

“When did you meet Kono?” Steve asked.

“Last night, she promised to teach me how to surf.” He chuckled. “I have to admit I'm much more comfortable in the water than on it.”

Danny nodded his understanding. “Did you know the victim?” he wanted to know.

Another brief shadow flitted over Neal's face.

“I knew of him,” he admitted.

Steve's frown deepened. Something was going on, and he was determined to find out what it was.

“How did you know about him?” he asked.

Neal shrugged. “His name is Wolf van Hagen. He is an internationally wanted art forger who specializes in early Impressionism. He made a fortune.” For a moment, it was as if Neal was somewhere else, miles and years away from the present. “There was quite an uproar when it was revealed that the ten paintings he had sold weren't a family heirloom. By that time, he was long gone.”

“I can imagine,” Steve muttered. A few ideas were already starting to form in his head, puzzle pieced that he needed to fit together correctly to reveal a complete picture. A glance in Danny's direction revealed that his partner was thinking the same.

“Allegedly, he retired, changed his name and started a new life somewhere,” Neal said thoughtfully.

Steve nodded grimly. “Looks like his old life caught up with him again.”

~~~

“What did you find out?” Steve asked as he strode into headquarters, Danny and Kono right behind him.

Lori's fingers moved across the computer touchscreen as she pulled up information.

“The piece of material we found in the body was canvas. The writing seems to be some kind of signature. Max pulled a lot of these pieces out of the body, the lab is busy cleaning the blood off of them and fitting them back together. I'll let you know when we know more.”

“The victim's name is Rudolph Sterling,” Chin seamlessly took over. “Also known as Wolf van Hagen, famous white collar criminal. He was never convicted of anything although he was arrested during an investigation of art crimes. He sold ten paintings and made twelve point eight million dollar but, before he could be arrested for that one, he disappeared.”

“Wow,” Kono muttered, at the same time as Danny commented, “That's what Caffrey said.”

Chin pressed his lips together, but he didn't say anything.

“Do we have an address?” Steve asked, and Chin nodded.

“We'll check it out.” Steve was already moving, and Danny quickly followed him. “Kono, bring Caffrey here! He can help us.”

~~~

“Impressionism really isn't my strong side,” Neal said when he opened the door to his hotel room and found himself face to face with Kono.

“You recognized Van Hagen,” Kono answered without missing a beat, and Neal found himself smiling.

“He caused a big uproar,” he said and took a step aside, to let her enter. He wanted to kiss her and find out if her lips still tasted like the ocean, like salt and water and sunshine, the way they had that morning, when they had been standing waist-deep in the water, before they had found the body. It had only been a few hours, he realized. Technically, it still was that morning, even if the careless freedom Kono had displayed while surfing was far away now.

A quick glance in Kono's face told him that now wasn't the time for kissing. She looked like a woman on a mission; a woman not to be messed with.

She reminded him a little bit of Diana and, for a split second, Neal had to fight the urge to grab his phone and call Peter just to hear his gruff voice tell him not to do anything stupid about Van Hagen.

He pushed the thought away with almost violent force.

“Do you have any idea who might have killed him?” he asked.

Kono shrugged. “Steve and Danny are checking out his apartment as we speak. Maybe they'll find something there.”

“Maybe he wasn't quite as retired as he was trying to make everyone believe,” Neal mused as he slipped into a pair of shoes. His fingers lingered on his ankle, feeling for the weight of a tracker that wasn't there anymore, and as usual, the feeling of freedom that swept through him like one of Kono's beloved waves almost made him dizzy.

He smoothed his hand down his shirt and grabbed the hat hanging from his bedpost. Kono being here could mean only one thing now that kissing was out of the question – they needed his expertise, Kono had been sent here by her boss to get him to help.

He didn't even think about refusing. He could have changed hotels, could have disappeared as soon as the police had let him go in the morning, but the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Instead, he had waited for Kono or someone to call.

It told him more about himself than he was willing to know at the moment.

“Ready when you are,” he told Kono and watched her give him a small grin.

He grinned back. His fingers itched to draw her, to capture the spark in her eyes on paper, with charcoal or with vibrant oil colors, but there wasn't time for that now.

There was a crime to solve.

Maybe later, he told himself as he grabbed his walled and his room key. When this was over, he would ask her to let him draw her.

~*+*~

“What do you think?” Danny asked as he turned on the spot and tried to take in all of the room around them. Every inch of the walls had been covered with old-looking paintings in heavy, dark wooden frames. The only piece of furniture in the room was an old couch pushed against the wall and out of the way and a long table. Colors, paintbrushes and haphazard piles of books were strewn across the surface, and Danny wasn't sure if the chaos had been caused by Van Hagen himself or if someone had come in here and tossed the place.

“I think this guy is even more chaotic than you, Danny.” Steve pulled on a glove and lifted the sad remains of a sandwich off the table.

Danny grimaced. “What do you mean, I'm not chaotic,” he protested automatically. “I meant about Kono's new boyfriend.”

Steve gave him a look. “I don't know,” he finally admitted with a shrug and put the sandwich back down. “I think he's hiding something.”

“He's hiding something? Really?” Danny's eyebrows rose. “That's all you've got?”

“Yeah, for the moment, that's all I've got.” Steve narrowed his eyes. “If you don't mind, Danny, there is a crime scene somewhere in here, and maybe, if you don't have anything else to do, we should try to find out where Van Hagen has been killed, and why, and by whom.”

“All right.” Danny lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. “I'll check the bedroom.”

~*+*~

“It's a forgery,” Neal said calmly and dropped the clear evidence bag down. “The brushstroke is all wrong. He probably was experimenting with the technique and got caught.”

“You can tell from that little piece?” Kono asked.

Neal shrugged. “It's easy when you know what to look for,” he said. “I wouldn't be surprised if he was back in the game.” A shadow fell across his face. “A lot of people in this line of business go back to it as soon as they can. Apparently.”

Kono nodded. “In that case, we need to find out to who he tried to sell his forgery,” she mused before giving him a hint of a smile. “You want to catch dinner tonight? I know just the place.”

Neal's gaze wandered over her body. “I would love that,” he murmured.

“Great.” Her eyes returned the favor, and Neal could feel a small thrill shivering along the length of his spine. It had been too long before Kono – there hadn't been anyone after Sara, not even for a single night to let him forget about all the things that had happened.

“I'm looking forward to dessert,” he murmured huskily, and when she blushed slightly, almost imperceptibly, he reacted on impulse and took her hand to breathe a kiss across her knuckles.

She laughed, almost embarrassed by his display of affection and gentlemanly behavior, and gave his shoulder a light shove. “Let's get back to work.”

~*+*~

“He definitely was involved in something,” Danny said as he and Steve returned to headquarters, bringing rolled up canvasses and paintings carefully pushed into clear plastic bags to avoid damage with them. “We found several half-finished paintings and tons of books about Impressionism. Apparently, he'd been working on a...” He hesitated briefly, looking for the right word. “...a piece of artwork inspired by a famous guy.”

“Hmmm,” Neal said and reached for the paintings they had brought. “Frédéric Bazille. The style is close enough to fool a layman, but there are subtle differences in the brushstroke. If he sold one of his paintings as an original Bazille and did this kind of shoddy work, it's not a big surprise they found out it was fake.”

“What now?” Kono asked into the silence at the same time as Steve's phone started ringing.

“Now we find the potential buyer,” Danny replied. “Kono, we need his phone records and emails, find out if there's anything suspicious, a certain number he called before his death.”

She nodded and started to move toward her office, to get started.

“They found his car,” Steve said as he put his phone back into his pocket. “Come on, Danno, let's check it out.”

~*+*~

“We found his car literally stuffed with money,” Danny said, his eyes focused on the small car in front of him. It was battered, the paint scratched, and it looked just like any old, probably bought second-hand car he'd ever seen besides the fact that the windows had been tinted black and that instead of food wrappers and napkins, money was littering the backseat.

Right now, the trunk had been popped open and the driver's side door was open, as well. From his current position leaning against his own car, Danny could see Steve's long legs hanging out of the car as his partner stretched across the front seat to check the glovebox.

The money had been stuffed under the seats and into the trunk, some of the bills held together with rubber bands, and both Steve and Danny had immediately recognized that they were looking at an incredible amount of money, more than either of them would ever have.

“Thousands of dollars,” he added. “It looks more and more like an unhappy customer found out the truth about the painting they got sold.”

Steve made a sound of triumph that was muffled by the car and the noise around them as he twisted around and lifted a gun. It was in a clear plastic bag, together with a paintbrush and a folded piece of paper.

“We found a gun,” Danny said. “Kono, is there a weapon registered to Van Hagen?”

“Registration number has been filed off,” Steve called out, and Danny wasn't surprised when Kono's voice filtered through his phone seconds later, confirming that no weapons had been registered to their dead victim.

“All right,” he said with a sigh, his eyes still glued on Steve, who was now checking the trunk of the car. “We'll wrap this up and come back.”

~*+*~

“So he sold a painting,” Neal said. He had rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt and he was leaning easily against the edge of the computer table. He had fit so seamlessly into this environment that Kono hadn't been able to stop wondering if he had experience with this kind of policework.

She hadn't asked, and he hadn't offered any kind of information himself. They had focused on the case, and apart from some harmless flirting, Neal had not once tried to lure her away from the boring task of working through phone records and information on French impressionists. It was a big difference to the last man she'd slept with. After he had called her four times within an hour to ask why she wasn't home yet, Kono had ended that relationship before it had even begun.

In hindsight she realized that doing that over the phone hadn't been the nicest thing, but she had been busy with a high-speed car chase at that moment, driving one-handed and yelling into her phone while Chin next to her had gotten paler and paler under his tan.

Neal was different from that.

He was different from all the men she had slept with before. His behavior and his clothes were slightly old-fashioned, as if he had dropped straight out of one of those old movies her auntie liked to watch, and he had stuck out like a sore thumb in the little dingy bar where they had met. It had intrigued Kono from the first moment she'd laid eyes on him, and she had started a conversation. One thing had led to another, and now, not twenty-four hours later, they were working together and trying to solve a murder.

Well, she amended in her thoughts and stretched slightly, Five-0 was trying to solve a murder and Neal was helping out with his vast knowledge of art and forgeries.

She gave him a small smile. “I need coffee,” she said. “You want some, too?”

“I wouldn't say no to that,” he answered. For a second, he looked as if he expected her to send him to get it, but the moment was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Chin and Lori came back that moment, and Kono stretched her arms over her head and grinned. “You finish with this, I get coffee,” she suggested. She needed to move, to get her head free again, and Chin would make sure Neal wouldn't try to do anything stupid. She knew just the place to get coffee strong enough to peel paint, and that was exactly what they needed now.

Neal would be fine. And, she thought as she walked to her car, judging by the looks Chin was giving him, her cousin would keep a very close look on him anyway.

The thought made her grin a little.

She didn't notice the masked man stepping up behind her. The only thing she realized was the tazer being pressed against her neck, and then blackness surrounded her as she lost consciousness. It happened so quick that she couldn't even turn around to lash out at her attacker.

~*+*~

The sound of the ringing phone was deafening in the silence of the room. Kono's car keys were lying between them, the grainy CCTV footage of the parking lot, where a masked man was tazing Kono and carrying her away was paused on the computer screen.

Steve glared at the phone, but as soon as he read the name of the caller on the display, his expression morphed from anger into something else, something more worried, and he hurried to accept the call. “Kono?”

“Steve.” She sounded slightly confused, but okay otherwise, he noticed with relief, and he put the phone on speaker, to let the rest of the team listen in on the call.

“Are you okay?” he asked sharply.

“I'm fine.” She swallowed audibly. “They want the seven million dollar they gave Van Hagen for the painting. Otherwise...” she trailed off and swallowed again. “They say the haole should bring the money to an address you'll get later. They say no cops and no tricks or you won't like the consequences,” she added. “You have one hour.”

The call disconnected.

“The call was made from a moving vehicle,” Lori reported immediately. “Moving to the west...here.” The map appeared on the screens.

“They don't want us to track them down,” Danny realized. “Do we know what kind of car they're in? Traffic cameras, anything?”

Chin moved but, after a while, he had to admit defeat. “Nothing,” he said tightly. “Nothing, brah.”

There was only one thing they could do for Kono now, and they all knew what it was. Still, none of them dared to move for a long moment.

Finally, Danny shifted. “I'll go,” he said.

“No.”

It was the first thing Neal said since they had realized Kono had been taken. “I should. They wanted me.”

Danny shook his head stubbornly. “No,” he said. “You're a civilian. We can't risk you doing that.”

“Sure you can.” Neal gave him an intense look. “I've done this kind of thing before. Besides, I know what they're here for. I have a better shot of getting her out than you.”

“Okay, and why exactly do you think you have a better shot at this than me?” Danny threw his arms up.

“Because he's a criminal,” Chin's hard voice cut in.

“What?” The tension in the room ratcheted up another notch and now was thick enough to be cut with a knife, Danny thought. Steve's eyes were narrowed, his muscles tense, as if he wanted to jump and attack Neal like some sort of giant predator.

Neal didn't even flinch.

“Neal Caffrey. He spent four years in prison for bond forgery.” Chin's hands moved over the computer table, bringing up Neal's mugshot and criminal record. “The past few years, he wore an electronic tracking anklet.”

“While consulting with the FBI,” Neal pointed out. “I did this kind of thing before. I know how to make deals with art collectors.”

“He's right,” Steve said with a sigh and rubbed his hand over his chin. “He has the best shot at this, and they wanted him. Not you, Danno.” He still sounded as if he hated saying the words and admitting defeat, but then, Danny thought as he looked at his partner, Steve was probably unhappy that he couldn't go and save Kono himself. He knew Steve, and he knew how protective their fearless leader was of all of them.

Chin shook his head in disbelief. “I can't believe we're relying on a convicted felon to get Kono out of this mess,” he muttered. “We don't even know if he's working with them or not.”

“We don't,” Danny agreed before shrugging. “What other options do we have, really? Kono's time is running out as we stand here and argue.” He turned toward Neal. “You think you can handle this?”

Neal nodded firmly.

He didn't know what made him do this. His time consulting with the FBI was officially over, and even then, Peter had usually tried to keep him out of dangerous situations. It hadn't always worked – to be honest, it had almost never worked – but that had been a completely different situation.

He had left New York as soon as the anklet was off, without looking back and without saying a single word of goodbye to Peter or Elizabeth. He had talked to June, and she had promised to explain to Peter why Neal had to leave, but that had been it.

He had needed the distance to figure out who he was: Neal the criminal or Neal the good guy who used his knowledge to help Peter and the FBI.

He had taken the first flight out of JFK knowing perfectly well that it would be no problem at all for Peter to track him down if he wanted to, but he needed the distance, to Peter, to Mozzie, to everything he knew and knew how to do.

And now, he was here, in almost the same position as the one he had tried to escape, with the addition of a life being at risk.

There was nobody else to blame for this, for him volunteering his help. This was all his own doing.

If Mozzie could see him now, he would probably check him for a fever.

If Peter could see him now, he would be caught between smug pride and worry, and he would wear both of them plainly on his face for the world to see.

But right now, Neal was alone, and he was determined to do the right thing and bring Kono home safe and sound.

“I can do it,” he said firmly. “I can get her back.”

Chin grumbled something under his breath, Lori looked at him doubtfully, but at least Steve and Danny seemed to believe him.

Neal pretended that it was enough.

~*+*~

Chin's face was stony as he handed Neal the thick golden faux-Rolex watch. “Here's the tracker. I'm sure you know how it works,” he simply said.

Neal nodded. He didn't admit that in a way, it felt good to put on any kind of tracker, even if it was as gaudy and distasteful like this watch. He still woke up sometimes, in the middle of the night, and had to fight off an overwhelming feeling of panic because his ankle was bare and he was convinced Peter would slam into his bedroom and arrest him for running away any minute now.

“Don't mess this up, Caffrey,” Chin warned.

Neal gave him a long, calm look. “I'm not going to,” he said confidently.

Chin looked like he wanted to reply, but the ringing of Steve's cell phone preempted his words.

It was Kono.

It was time.

“Steve.” Kono's voice was trembling slightly, but they could all hear how she was trying to keep herself under control and not show her kidnappers any weaknesses. “They say you should give your phone to Nick Halden.”

Neal's eyes widened. He hadn't used that particular alias for almost a year, after Peter had decided that it had started to become too dangerous, too well-known in certain circles.

Who were these people, and how had they found out about Nick? Neal didn't know, but there wasn't any time to waste with hesitation now.

He held out his hand, and Steve handed over the phone.

“Yes?”

An unknown voice answered. “The infamous Mr. Nick Halden, I assume. I've heard a lot about you.”

“I wish I could say the same about you,” Neal answered smoothly. Becoming Nick again was like pulling on an old and familiar suit, and he had a split second where he could admit that he had missed this particular persona.

“Do you have the money?” the voice wanted to know, not answering the implied question.

“I do.”

“We will text you directions. You have half an hour. Don't be late, don't lose this phone, and no tricks. We know who you really are.”

The connection was interrupted, and Neal had to suppress a shudder.

Peter had been right. Nick Halden really hadn't been a safe persona anymore. But why had these people called him by this alias instead of his real name if they knew it? Was it just to play mind games and try to get them off-balance? He didn't know, and there was no time to ponder these questions as the phone vibrated with a text message.

Neal gave Steve a grim smile and held up the phone. “You mind if I hold on to this?”

~*+*~

The directions texted to Steve's phone led Neal, who had rented a car, through a maze of streets. Several times, he was convinced that he was actually going in circles, but finally, he arrived at an old warehouse. The small windows were blind with dirt, and the gates leading to the property were held closed by thick chains and heavy padlocks, except one. As he was driving by slowly, Neal could see the broken chainlinks lying discarded at the side of the dusty road, dark with age except for the parts where they had been cut open and were glinting in the afternoon sun.

He parked the car and took a deep breath before grabbing the bag on the passenger's seat and getting out of the car.

It was showtime.

Slowly, he stepped into the dark warehouse, just as the text message had ordered him to. His eyes needed a long moment to adjust to the dim light that fell in through the door, and when they did, he realized that the building was empty except for the van parked right in front of him.

Two masked men appeared out of the shadows. One kept his gun trained on Neal while the other one grabbed the bag out of Neal's hands and yanked the zipper open.

Neal held his breath, but the man just grunted and closed the bag again without even touching the money. He tossed it into the van and then turned his attention back to Neal.

With short, impersonal moves, he patted Neal down, taking Steve's phone and Neal's wallet.

“The watch. Off,” he ordered.

Neal's heart sank. Without the watch, there was no way for Five-O to trail them, to know where they were, and the sight of the van told him that they would not stay here.

“Off. Now!” the man snapped and took a menacing step closer. Sharp metal glinted in his hand as he grabbed Neal's wrist and yanked. “Don't make me take it off for you, because I'll take your hand with it,” he hissed.

“Okay, okay!” Neal frowned. “I'm taking it off.” He fumbled with the clasp and finally dropped the watch into the man's gloved palm, only to watch it get tossed deeper into the shadows, together with the phone and the wallet.

“Get in there,” the man ordered and pushed Neal toward the van. A gun was pressed to his shoulderblade, hard enough to bruise even through the material of his clothes, and then, something dark and smelling like musty soil was tossed over Neal's head.

Neal reached up on instinct. His fingers touched rough cloth, but before he could yank it off again, a blow hit his head. He couldn't brace for it as it came and sent him sprawling on the dirty ground, his forehead narrowly missing the side of the van.

The world became even blacker around him as he lost consciousness.

~*+*~

Neal woke slowly. His head hurt as if it had been split in two and it sent spikes of pain through his entire body as he forced his eyes open and it felt as if the light was stabbing him straight into the brain.

The world around him was blurry, and without realizing he was doing it, he let out a pitiful groan and tried to curl himself into a ball. Nausea made his stomach roll, and for a long moment, he had to focus on breathing shallowly through his nose to stop himself from throwing up.

“Congratulations,” a voice said somewhere to his left. Neal didn't want to open his eyes, but, his memory prodded at him, this was Kono, and he had to make sure she was okay.

It was why he was here.

“Congratulations what?” he croaked and slowly opened his eyes again. He needed a long moment to bring Kono into focus – the skin around her left eye had turned a dark, almost violent shade of purple, vivid like oil paint and looking very painful from up close. Her eye was swollen shut, and she had a grim expression on her face, but besides the eye, she seemed to be unharmed.

“Congratulations, you've got yourself a concussion,” Kono said. “If it helps, I think you stopped bleeding a while ago.”

Neal groaned again and sat up slowly, only to notice that his hands were cuffed together. He didn't know how he had missed that before, and he didn't waste any time worrying about his lack of observational skills.

“Great, I always wanted one of those,” he managed to say. “Any idea what they want with us, or where we are?”

Kono shrugged. “They want their money and the real painting, I think. No idea where we are, but they tossed you in here about an hour ago.”

“But there is no real painting.” Neal brought his hands up and inspected the cuffs. They were standard-issue police handcuffs, heavy and slightly rough around the edges.

Kono shrugged. “I tried telling them that,” she said and pointed to her eye. “They didn't believe me.”

Neal sighed and rubbed at his aching head with both hands. The fingers he carded through his hair came back sticky, and the gentle touch to his scalp sent new waves of pain through him. “I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Kono shifted closer and let him lean against her side for support. She was warm and strong, and Neal took a carefully measured breath to make the raging headache go away.

“This is not how my mornings after usually go,” he said.

It brought him a hint of a chuckle from Kono. “Really? How do they go, usually?”

“Well.” Neal glanced at his cuffed wrists again. “Either there is a lot more breakfast in bed and less kidnapping and murder...or there's Peter, dragging me away on a case.”

Kono laughed. “Sounds almost boring,” she teased. “Breakfast and all that. But very nice. No murder.”

“We should try it sometime,” Neal suggested and pulled his knees up.

“Yeah.” Kono tugged at her own cuffed wrists. “We only need to get out of the cuffs and through the locked door, and through these guys, and we can go and have a second attempt at this morning after thing.” She managed a smile. “I promised to teach you how to surf, after all.”

“Sounds good.” Neal gave her a grin and slowly worked the safety pin from its hiding place in the hem of his pants. It sometimes paid to pick up habits from friends, especially from a paranoid criminal like Mozzie who never trusted anyone. “Let's do that.”

It took him only a few minutes of picking the handcuffs on his own wrists, and even less time for Kono's.

She grinned at him as she rubbed her wrists. “Impressive.”

Neal shrugged. “I've only ever met one lock I wasn't able to pick,” he admitted quietly, his hand instinctively going to his ankle. He was sure that it was only a matter of time until Kono found out about his past, now that her team was aware of it, and he gave in to the urge to tell the truth for once. “Strange as it sounds, I almost miss it. Not the two mile radius of the tracker they put on me...” He shook his head carefully. “But there were a few good sides to these four years, too,” he finished.

Kono gave him a nod and wrapped her arm around him, to help him get up and to offer quiet comfort and support at the same time, and Neal forced his attention back to the present.

He could think about the past later, when they were in safety.

Now was not the right time for that.

And now was not the time for the many questions he was sure Kono had. She had taken his explanations in stride, but he knew how a cop's mind worked. She would have questions.

~*+*~

Neal had a lot of talents and skills, but he was the first to admit that fighting and self-defense were not necessarily high on that list of skills, if they were there at all. Diana and Jones had offered to teach him a few things, and he had picked up several tricks over the years from Peter as well, but all together, Neal's strategy in a physical altercation was to keep his head down and try to run away, to escape unscathed.

Thankfully, Kono knew what she was doing, and it took her almost as little time overwhelming the two guards and disarming them as it had taken Neal to pick the lock on the door.

He was no help in the fight. His head hurt and watching Kono's slender body whirl around and take out two big, heavy men almost brought back the nausea he'd barely managed to push away.

“Let's go,” Kono told him and handed him one of the guns. “You know how to use this?”

“Don't aim at your own foot when you pull the trigger,” Neal slurred. “I hate guns.”

“Yeah, but you'd hate them more if they were aimed at your head, brah,” Kono pointed out and wrapped her free arm around Neal's waist again, to steady him.

“True,” Neal admitted and inhaled shakily. “Should we go, then?”

Kono nodded, and they started to move toward where they suspected the exit to be, following the long, windowless and kind of winding hallway.

Suddenly, there was a muffled thumping noise coming from above them, followed by the sound of hasty footsteps coming toward them.

Kono pressed herself against the wall, right behind the next corner. Neal followed suit and held his breath.

Something exploded close by, and a man dressed in black with a mask hiding his face from view rushed past them.

Or, to be more exact, attempted to rush past them. It was no problem for Kono to step into his way and use the man's momentum against him, grabbing his arm and hooking a foot between his legs, making him stumble and crash into the wall inches away from where Neal was leaning and looking at the display with wide, slightly unfocused eyes.

Kono twisted the man's arm up, holding his wrist pinned between his shoulder blades, and whispered to Neal, “Quick, get his gun!”

A second explosion rocked the building.

Neal fumbled slightly as he followed her order, but he managed to pull the gun out of the man's holster without dropping it and taking a few steps away.

Somewhere ahead of them, a door banged against the wall. It was loud, and Neal flinched slightly. Kono didn't notice as a booming and very welcome voice shouted, “Five-0!”

“We're here!” she yelled back. “We've got a suspect in custody...”

She didn't get any further before Steve was there, gun drawn, face pinched tight, and handed her a set of handcuffs.

“Did you cause that explosion, boss?” Kono asked as she closed them around her prisoner's wrists.

Steve shrugged. “Are you okay?” he asked her, every line of his body screaming concern.

Kono nodded. “I'm fine,” she promised. “But I think Neal's got a pretty bad concussion.”

“How did you find us?” Neal interrupted. “They took the watch. And your phone.”

“Easy,” Steve said before calling out, “I've got them!” Moments later more steps hurried closer, and Danny and Chin came down the corridor.

“How did you find us?” Neal asked again. “There was no way to track me after they took the watch.”

Steve looked slightly embarrassed. “We hid a tracker in the money.”

“You what?” Neal stared at him disbelievingly.

Danny shrugged and grabbed the cuffed man's arm. “It was Chin's idea,” he said before dragging the prisoner away.

Chin frowned. “You're a criminal, Caffrey,” he pointed out. “We didn't know if we could trust you or if you were working with them.”

“I think I should be offended,” Neal said before paling. Swallowing thickly, he added, “I also think I'm going to be sick.”

“Come on,” Steve said and grabbed his upper arm. “Let's get you to a hospital.” He was strong enough to take some of Neal's weight, and Neal allowed himself to get led out of this building and into an ambulance that was already waiting.

~*+*~

“Hey.”

Neal looked up from the buttons of his shirt. Chin and Kono were leaning against the door to his hospital room, and they were both smiling. Kono's smile was open and welcoming, Chin's a little more guarded, but it was a smile nonetheless. Neal was willing to take it.

“Hey,” he answered easily and reached for his hat. The hospital staff had to shave off a patch of his hair to clean and stitch his head wound, and Neal hadn't had time yet to assess the damage.

Kono stepped further into the room. “I hear they're letting you go,” she said playfully.

“Yes.” Neal grinned. “You came to pick me up?”

“Sure.” She nudged his arm gently. “Chin wanted to tell you something.” The look she sent Chin's way was a warning, Neal realized.

Chin coughed uncomfortably. “Well,” he started and rubbed a hand over his face. “I guess...I want to hate you, but...thanks for helping save Kono.”

Her glare became intense enough to make the hairs stand up on Neal's arms, although it wasn't even aimed at him.

“And I'm sorry for suspecting you to work with them,” Chin finished and glared right back at Kono. “There, you happy now, Cuz?”

“Thank you,” Neal interrupted. “For, you know. Rescuing us. Even if Kono had it under control.”

Chin grinned proudly. “She did.”

“Shut up,” Kono muttered, embarrassed by the praise.

“Any news who was behind all that?” Neal asked and grabbed his wallet.

“Nothing, but we're working on it,” Chin replied. The men who had kidnapped Kono and had killed Van Hagen had admitted that they were working for someone else, but no matter how menacing Steve and Danny were in their interrogation techniques, they hadn't given up a name yet. The identity of the collector remained a mystery, and Five-0 were not really equipped to find him. They had enough determination to do the job, but determination alone was not enough to untangle this web.

“Come on, Neal, you ready to get out of here?” Kono asked him gently, as if she was aware that his thoughts had drifted away again.

He so was.

He'd had a lot of time to think while he was in the hospital, and he'd come to the realization that the anklet had not been the only thing tying him to New York. There were other bonds, bonds that had formed during the four years working as a consultant for the FBI and that were even more unpickable than the tracker.

He was willing to blame his thoughts on the concussion, but, as competent and nice and determined as the Five-0 team was – Neal missed Peter, Diana and Jones and their competence and friendship.

He missed them badly enough that he wanted to go back to New York, back to the way things had been, even if that meant the annoyance of the anklet.

“Ready,” he said and grabbed the postcard he'd started to write from the small table. “More than ready, even.”

Kono grinned and took his arm. On the address field of the card, she could read the names _Peter and Elizabeth Burke_ , and she knew without a doubt that Neal would leave soon and return to his life. She wouldn't be able to stop him, and she knew she wouldn't even try.

Until then, there was still some time left, and she was determined to take advantage of that. Neal had promised a better “morning after” and she was looking forward to it.

“Great,” she grinned and squeezed his hand. “Maybe I'll manage to teach you how to surf, after all.”


End file.
